


Shadows Falling

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Tragedy, Death, F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Levi/Eren Yeager, Reincarnation, Spirits, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2445041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Across the ages, Ymir and Historia have always found each other, but always, something sinister has been drawing closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fate Remembers

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) This is literally my first fanfiction, so comments and suggestions are welcome! Hope you enjoy.

At the sound of a peculiar bird call, Ymir drew her knife and melted out of the forest’s shadows. The carriage had come just as Hanjii had said it would, which irked Ymir slightly. She had urged the leader of their band, Reiner, not to trust Hanjii, but he had (predictably) ignored her. And it seemed that this time he had been right. Not that Ymir would admit that Hanjii was actually trustworthy.

Snapping back into focus, Ymir noted that the guards and driver were too preoccupied to notice her yet. They were considering how to move the tree that had “fallen” across the path, obstructing it completely. In this territory, they should have known better to think it an accident. They should have known better than to think themselves safe, even with 8 armed guards.

Hearing her footsteps, one of the guards turned. She smirked as his eyes widened in fear and surprise. Her purpose was fairly obvious.

Smugly, Ymir announced, “ This carriage has officially been confiscated. Surrender now and your lives may be spared.”

The guards sprang to action, and clustered protectively around the carriage, swords drawn. From the forest, her fellows emerged and formed a circle around the prize.

It seems it would be an easy victory; the guards were greatly outnumbered. 

A pity Reiner couldn’t be here, Ymir mused. This would be just another opportunity for him to spread his fearsome reputation. But then again, this was her chance to prove herself to him, something she had yet to accomplish even though she was his third in command. And Reiner of course much prefered to stay and mother over his partner-in-crime Berthold who had been injured in the last raid.

Ymir nearly snorted at the thought of one of the countryside’s most feared bandits fussing over anyone, not to mention Berthold who could very much look after himself. Obviously, their feelings for each other were well known, but most of Reiner’s men knew better than to mention it. They all remembered what had happened to the last person who had made a hasty comment. 

Meanwhile, the soldiers did not appear ready to surrender just based upon a show of force, which to Ymir seemed just as well. She was itching for a fight, and if the guards were willing to defend their charge to the death, it must have been holding something good. Given her band’s reputation, most just surrendered.

She raised her arm to give the signal to attack, when from the carriage came a soft voice: “Hannes,” it asked, “Why have we stopped.”

It was as if Ymir was hit by a solid wave. Memories upon memories flooded into her consciousness and her heart beat as if to explode out of her chest. It was as if all the moments of her miserable life had crystallized, formed from a thousand specs into one solid purpose. A second ago, she might as well have been dead. Now, she felt the blood pumping fire through her veins. This was all that mattered. Across her hundreds of lifetimes, that voice was all that had ever mattered.

“Historia,” she gasped, “Historia. How could I have forgotten?”

But that was how it always had been. No memories of her age-old love story until her path and Historia’s crossed.

As the other girl’s small blond head emerged from the carriage, Ymir remained immobile, hypnotised by that face. It was only when understanding turned to horror in those giant blue eyes that Ymir felt the pain, and looked down to see the sword thrust through her chest.

The world began to spin, and all she could see were those blue eyes, overflowing with tears. 

A hand supporting her head.

And then the words, in that melodious whisper: “My love. In the next life, we shall find each other. We always have. Fate has never been so cruel as to keep us apart.”

As her consciousness faded, Ymir felt lips brush across her own, like butterfly wings.

And then Ymir felt nothing at all.


	2. Dividing Lines

“You shouldn’t be here, Christa.” Ymir regretted the harshness in her voice as soon as she saw the tears well in the other girl’s eyes. And she regretted calling her Christa. That was the name they used so that the villagers didn’t know her identity as the rich daughter of the noble Reiss family, but Historia, Lady Historia, hated the deception.

“I just needed to see you.” Historia’s voice wavered. 

“I know, and I’m sorry, but just don’t cry. It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.”

They had had to resort to this secrecy after Historia’s parents had noticed that the relationship between their daughter and the kitchen dishwasher went a little beyond friendly. And, in truth, the missing family heirloom hadn’t helped. Or her open hostilities towards the son of the influential Lord Balto, but he had had it coming. The way he looked at Historia-her beautiful Historia- was enough to make Ymir see red. He was lucky that she had stopped short of killing him.

It had been about a month ago and the young lord to be had been over for a formal dinner. Ymir had watched in secret from the kitchen, and she had seen the way Lord Balto’s hier regarded Historia-like she were his property.

Which was why, late that night when the young man had gone to the stable to see to his horse, he was promptly clubbed over the head, kicked in the ribs, and dumped into a pile of manure. Before knocking him out cold with a shovel, Ymir had hissed in his ear, “keep away from Historia.” Ineffective, perhaps, since he was scheduled to come to dinner again tomorrow, but it had somewhat satisfied Ymir’s anger. And she had been pretty sure that no one would have suspected her (occasionally gender stereotypes did work in one’s favor), but she could not be too sure.

“I brought you lunch.” Historia’s voice pulled Ymir back to the present, and Historia opened her small sac to pull out two loaves of bread, an apple, some meat, and a cherry tart.   
Ymir’s mouth watered, but she snapped “I don’t need your shitty help.”

But she grasped the loaf of bread the Historia offered her and took a bite: “It’s good,” she pronounced.

Historia smiled, rather pleased with herself: “Can we go down to the river?”

*****

The river flowed gently during the summer and when Ymir and Historia reached the pebbled shore, Historia kicked off her slippers and splashed into the water with a shriek as the icy water lapped at her ankles. Rolling her eyes and suppressing a smile, Ymir carefully removed her boots and placed them where they would (hopefully) stay dry. Then she stood where the water met the pebbly beach, not relishing the thought of the cold.

“Come on Ymir,” Historia gave her arms a tug. With a sigh, Ymir dipped her foot in the water, and then leapt back, spewing profanities at the cold. But the pebbles were slippery and ymir fell into the water with a crash (and several curses). Historia tried and failed to suppress a giggle.

*****

Once Historia had finally had enough splashing in the water, they sat together on the shore, warming in the sun. Ymir gazed into the forest, letting her thoughts ramble, and was surprised when she felt something soft fall into her lap. Looking down, she found Historia’s head resting on her thigh, her blond locks spread in all directions. Absent mindedly, Ymir ran her fingers through the other girl’s hair. “It’s so soft,” she thought.

Historia giggled in surprise. Ymir nearly blushed when she realized that she had said that out loud.

“I don’t think you are as tough as you pretend to be.”

“Whatever.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, when suddenly, Historia commanded, “Listen, Ymir”

“What?”

“The spirits of the woods.”

Ymir snorted, but listened attentively anyways. At first, there was nothing, but then, from the variety of soft forest noises, she could just discern the rise and fall of melodious voices. She strained her ears. Just a little louder and she could understand them...but then the moment faded and their message was left to the wind and the trees.


	3. Necessity

“You should go soon, Historia. Your tutor will be suspicious.”

“Not yet. I haven’t told you what I meant to yet.”

The pain in those words made Ymir’s heart drop.

“I was going to tell you as soon as I saw you; I had made up my mind, but then I just wanted to spend some time with you, without any concerns. I’m in love with you Ymir, and no matter what happens through our lives, nothing can change that.”

Ymir took the smaller girl’s hands in her own, and her voice took on a soft, but dangerous tone: “Tell me what happened.”

Historia’s lips quivered, her eyes filled with tears, and then it all poured out.

“My father summoned me to his study to speak with me today. I didn’t know what it was about, but I knew it was something big. He and my mother have been giving each other looks about something for the past six months. Like they were planning something. And when I stood before him, he talked for a long time, about how I’ve grown up into a delicate young lady, and I could tell that he was stalling, and then he just came out and said it.” she sniffed, “Ymir...he said that they have arranged my marriage to the son of Lord Balto.”

Ymir flinched visibly. And then her eyes grew icy cold: “That’s not going to fucking happen. I’m tired of this. We’re running away tonight.”

Releasing Ymir’s hands, Historia wiped the tears away from her eyes, sniffed, and managed a small smile. 

“Tomorrow--I’ll go for a ride; but not tonight. Any longer and I will be missed.”

“Then you have to go back now.” Ymir said it as a statement rather than a question. “I’ll walk with you--you shouldn’t be in the forest alone.”

They both walked slowly. The day was light, but to Ymir the trees seemed menacing. Yet in her hand was Historia’s. And all she could focus on was its warmth in her own--its unnatural warmth. The world seemed to fade to three elements: the leaves under her feet, the hand in her own, and the beating of her foolishly breaking heart. Because beside her was a creature perfect for its fragility. A creature that lived, breathed, loved, and bled. Ymir’s body may have lived, but her life did not come from itself. The heart in her chest was not hers, it existed for Historia alone, and for Historia it kept beating. 

If Ymir had been any less in love, this realization would have terrified her. 

“I should go alone from here” Historia whispered.

They released each other’s hands but stood awkwardly for a while, neither wanting to leave.

“Until tomorrow then,” Ymir whispered, more to herself than to Historia.

A mischievous grin alighted upon Historia’s lips, and almost without warning, she stood up on the tips of her toes and kissed Ymir’s lips before wheeling around and darting through the servants door of her parents’ castle.

Ymir stood, watching the door through which the other girl had disappeared. She felt a vague prickling sensation on the back of her neck, as if she was being watched. She whipped around to catch her observer by surprise, but predictably, whatever had been there had vanished into the shadows. Scoffing at her own jumpiness, Ymir headed back into the forest, but was unable to shake her uneasiness. Convincing herself it was merely worry for Historia, Ymir mentally prepared herself for a long 16 hours or so. Anticipation always prevented her from sleeping.

But tomorrow, everything would be alright. Because everyone, even Ymir, deserved one happy life, right?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yey! Longest chapter yet! (which isn’t really saying much because the first 3 are really short)

But Historia did not come back the next day, or the day after that. Ymir waited by her makeshift campsite in the forest. Distracting herself with tasks failed, and she found herself pacing in circles, her steps growing faster and less precise. The first day she had been calm. 

There were many reasons she could think of that explained the other girl’s absence: her tutors had continued her lessons for longer than normal; her horse had lost a shoe; her parents had ordered her another dress that had to be fitted. As the light faded of the second day, Ymir couldn’t take it any longer. She had to go to Historia, to discover what went wrong. 

Ymir walked swiftly, nearly running, but as she neared the castle, she forced herself to slow down and think logically. She could sneak in the same servant’s door that Christa had used; she had done it before, and she knew the layout of the corridors very well--after all, she had lived there for sixteen years.

In the forest’s shadow, she waited for a groundskeeper to pass by before she darted across the vegetable garden and through the opening. With a confident air, Ymir proceeded down the hallway. From experience, Ymir knew that looking like you belonged was enough to fool most of the harried servants. However, Ymir did not want to take the chance of running into someone who would recognize her, so when she heard voices from around the corner, she ducked into a nearby storage room, dipping her head to avoid bumping it on the low doorframe. 

As the two women passed, Ymir could only pick out snippets, but what she heard made her clench her fists and bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying out. All she could focus on where two phrases: “Lady Historia” and “red plague.”

Breath catching in her chest, Ymir exited the storage quarters and dashed out of the servants’ quarters, ignoring a shout for her to stop unless she wanted a beating. Up the stairs she went, straight towards Historia’s room. Luckily, she maintained enough composure to retreat around a corner as she reached Historia’s room. Outside stood Lord and Lady Reiss, looking grim. They looked weary, and the woman kneaded her hands together compulsively with worry over their only child. They were conversing softly with a man Ymir recognized to be a doctor. His expression was grave. 

Ymir felt the world spin around her as a wave of pain and anger. Someone, something, had to pay for hurting Historia. If a person had been responsible, she would have found them and she would have made them hurt in ways that only she could imagine. Only Ymir, whose lover lay dying. But there was no one responsible. Just fate, fate and chance. Ymir had to bite back a screen of frustration at the injustice. 

Historia’s parents and the doctor disappeared down the corridor, and Ymir, with shaking hands, made her way into the other girl’s bedroom.

Historia breath was shallow, her eyes were closed and her wan face dripped with sweat.   
Ymir sank to her knees and clutched that limp hand. Why Historia? Why did the beautiful, lovable, kind, and purely good Historia die while Ymir still lived? She could press that hand to her face, kiss those slightly parted lips, but the pox would not take her. Ymir had already gotten it--had it and recovered, when she was fourteen years old. But somehow it had passed Historia, until now.

Historia’s eyes fluttered open: “Ymir, “ she managed in a whisper, “I knew you’d come.”   
“How are you?” was all Ymir could say without her voice betraying her. She rested her cool hand on the other girl’s burning forehead. 

“My head hurts, and I’m tired, but its better seeing you.” A smile flitted across her lips: “We would have been happy, together in the woods. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to go alone this time.”

“No, you’ll be fine. Just give it a few days. Then you’ll be better and we’ll go together. Most people survive the pox.” Looking at Historia’s weak form, Ymir wondered if her words sounded as false to the other girl as they did to her own ears.

“It shouldn’t have progressed this quickly, Ymir. I heard what the doctor was saying.”  
Before Ymir could make an argument to the contrary, she heard footsteps and rolled under the bed. 

“You’re awake.” From her days at the castle, Ymir recognized the voice of Mina. Of course they would send her. She was the pity case, kept on because the Reiss family did not have the heart to throw her out as many would have, but that did not mean that anyone wanted her around. Her life was a tragedy, an unwanted reminder of how much could go wrong at any time. 

Her mother had died in childbirth when she was six, and her father, a groundskeeper, had been thrown out for suspicions of petty theft when she was nine. He had pleaded with the head of servants, and arranged for Mina to work in the kitchens to pay for her room and board. Three weeks later, he was found dead in the village streets. Ymir and Mina had known each other for years--most of the servants knew each other in the castle, but they were never close. Mina was three years older, shy, easily scared, and maintained a perpetually mournful expression. Nothing Ymir related to.

However, Ymir had always been struck with the feeling that she should know Mina-that they had met before. But whatever the connection was, it was buried too deeply in Ymir’s past, and she soon ceased worrying about it.

Even after the death of her family, Mina would have had some hope. She was pretty, after all, and attracted the attention of a young carpenter. She was 17 and they were engaged.   
And then the pox struck. 

About a third of the village got it, and almost 100 died. Her fiance was one of those. Mina was not so lucky; she survived, but her face did not.

And so she had been sent to tend to Historia. She couldn’t get smallpox again--a small blessing.

Ymir couldn’t take it any longer; it should be her who was tending to Historia-not Mina. Hoping their past acquaintance would be enough to still the older girl’s tongue. She rolled out from under the bed and stood up. Mina stepped back in surprise: “Ymir, you can’t be here.”

“Like that will stop me.”

Mina’s eyes flicked to Historia, who had once again closed her eyes, and then back to Ymir. 

“Go, Mina. You know I’ll look after her.” Ymir was pleased by the strength in her voice. 

The other girl nodded, set down the tray which held a bowl of soup and a tub of cold water to cool Historia’s face, and backed out the door.

I must be strong. For Historia. I can cry later, but not now. Ymir steadied herself with a deep breath and then sat by Historia’s bedside. Dipping a cloth into the water, Ymir dragged it across Historia’s burning forehead, tucking a loose strand of blond hair behind the other girl’s ear as she did so.

“Have some soup, love.”

Ymir pressed the spoon to Historia’s lips. Historia shook her head weakly, but Ymir insisted and Historia managed to swallow some.   
****  
It was later that night that Ymir realized that for Historia, there would be no recovery. The Doctor had come and gone an hour before, and Historia had seemed fine-weak, but fine. But as the evening drew to a close, Ymir noticed that the breath started catching in the other girl’s chest. It was subtle at first, but grew gradually worse. Eventually, Historia burst into a horrible coughing fit.

“I’ll get the doctor,” Ymir said in panic.

She turned around, but from behind her came Historia’s soft voice: “Stay.”

Historia’s coughing continued anew. 

“I don’t know how to help you Historia. I need to get the doctor.”

Ymir angrily fought back the tears in her eyes-tears at her own inability to do anything to save Historia.

“Stay,” the other girl repeated. “I don’t want to die alone.”

Oh, my love, we all die alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “red plague” is smallpox in case that wasn’t clear. In this case, it was supposed to be the rare hemorrhagic smallpox variety. My knowledge of diseases is sketchy at best, so I’m sorry if my description is inaccurate. Most of my information comes from http://www.labelle.org/top_diseases.html and http://www.coconino.az.gov/DocumentCenter/View/364


	5. Bitter Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a reference to Sarah Teasdale’s Poem “Wild Asters.”

Seeing death many times before does not make it easier. Just because she had lived so many lifetimes did not make it hurt less, did not reduce the wrenching, tearing pain of Historia’s death. In some ways, it made it worse. Because Ymir was certain of only two things: that they would die, and that she could never get used to seeing those expressive eyes turn glassy. 

She wished she could say it had been painless, but she knew that it hadn’t been. Drowning never is. She wished she could have taken some of the pain on Christa’s behalf, but in a way she had. The physical pain was one thing: the fear, lungs clutching, gasping for air. Because that was how Historia died-drowned because her lungs were too stupid to know that there was air all around them. 

But Ymir had taken away the burden that Christa otherwise would have had- watching the other die.

This world was fucked up.

In no just world would Historia die while she--Ymir--was left alive. 

“I don’t want to die alone”

Historia’s voice echoed, and Ymir’s fingers curled. She had failed the one person she would have died to protect.

But here she was, sitting by Historia’s sickbed, clutching her cooling hand, and she couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take another moment of life without Historia. Without her laugh, without her smile, without her complete assurance that Ymir was worth it. 

“I don’t want to die alone.”

Ymir didn’t believe in God, and even if she had, it wouldn’t have changed her mind. She knew she would be reborn again, but she would have done the same even if she only had one life. Because without Historia, this world was cruel. Without Historia, Ymir had no will to live, to love, and all she could do was regard the world with disgust.

“I don’t want to die alone.”

Not realizing that she spoke out loud, Ymir responded, “You won’t my love. I’m coming for you.”

Her feet took her to the river almost of their own accord. She took off her boots, set them neatly by the edge of a tree-the same tree she had put them near before, what had been a lifetime ago, what had been in a world basked in rosy light. The water lapped against the dullness of the banks of the river, and the sun began to set. She wandered into the river, and remembered complaining of the temperature last time, with Christa. This time she didn’t feel the cold. 

Had she thought it possible, she would have just stopped breathing. But she did not trust her body not to betray her, to fight for a life that she did not want. So she stared into the river.   
For the first time in her life, she was glad that she did not know how to swim. She stepped into the river. 

One step.

The water was to her ankles. A figure appeared in front of her, it seemed. It had blond hair.

Another step. The water was to her knees. Historia was laughing, grabbing her hand and   
coaxing her into the water.

A third step, the water was to her waist. The apparition smiled

A fourth step. The water was up to her chest. “I’ve been waiting” Ymir.

Her final step and her feet no longer touched the ground.

I love you. Historia said.

Ymir smiled.


	6. Intertwined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break (finally) from the angst of the first chapters :), sort of.

Tucking her hair behind her ear out of habit, Historia stepped out of the store into the small town’s main street. She took a deep breath and smiled. Not that it smelled particularly good (in fact, it stank), but it was nice being able to breathe again. 

Historia knew she shouldn’t have ditched Armin at the general store-it wasn’t proper for her to wander around without a chaperone-but she tired of social convention, and she wanted to get a feel for her new home. Now that she thought about it, she was feeling a little bit guilty-Armin was probably looking for her. But she could make up with her cousin later; it was not as if anything was going to happen. She wasn’t as fragile as she looked--even if her lungs insisted otherwise, the reason she had gone to live with her aunt and cousin in the first place. The dust from the city factories-many owned by her parents--had clogged her lungs and hampered her breathing. Although not initially enthusiastic about relocation, Historia had to admit that the town’s peaceful, quiet atmosphere did have some appeal over the endless clamor of the city.

This was going to be a good day. 

Historia stepped forward to cross the street, only to trip over the feet of a young man carrying a bucket of water. Historia barely managed to right herself. 

“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” the man snapped. Normally, his aggression would have upset Historia, but she barely recognized his words, because all she could focus on was that voice. Every inflection, every edge was dear to her. Memories flooded into her awareness of their own accord, and she could scarcely believe that she could ever have forgotten. “Ymir,” she whispered, and then louder “Ymir!”

But the man was gone-he hadn’t noticed the familiarity of her face-hadn’t bothered to look back.

And then it hit Historia...Ymir was a man? She could feel her head spinning slightly. What had happened? Through their lifetimes, they had always kept the same names, the same appearances, and most certainly the same genders. 

This was terrible. What if Ymir couldn’t even remember her? Was that why she hadn’t looked back? Never before had one of them remembered before the other...and how could Ymir be male?

Historia must have looked vaguely horrified because an onlooker reassured her: “Don’t take it personally, Miss, that’s just Samuel. He’s like that to everyone.”

If not for her more pressing concerns, Historia would have found this comment amusing. Samuel-that was just the sort of pretentious, old fashioned name that Ymir hated.

“Where can I find him?” The man’s confusion showed that Historia must have seemed a bit too eager.

“Er...I mean where can I find him to...um...confront him about his...er...terrible behavior?”

The man did not look particularly convinced, but he replied anyways,”You can talk to the blacksmith-that’s Samuel’s mentor-but I doubt it will do any good. Levi’s not any more friendly, in fact, they’re the only two people who can actually put up with each other. His shop is that way, but you’d be better to stay away.”

Levi...why did that name seem so familiar. It was not like it was common or anything.

Pushing that thought aside, Historia thanked the man and headed in the direction he had indicated, trying to quell the frantic beating of her heart.

When she stepped inside the blacksmith’s shop, Historia was certain that she’d been sent to the wrong place. Not the grimy, dusty workshop she had been expecting, it was clean and neat, with horseshoes and tools carefully placed and labeled for sale. The stone floor was so well swept it practically shone.

It was only after she took in all the aspects of the room that Historia noticed the person in the room. And the one thing she observed about him was that he was short. Very short, as in, his eyes were at the same level as Historia’s short.

Unfortunately, Historia’s observation must have been pretty obvious, because the man’’s eyes narrowed and he glared at her rather menacingly.

She shrank back a bit, and asked: “umm...is this the blacksmith’s shop?”

“No, it’s the fucking palace. Who are you and what the fuck do you want?”

Taking the man’s sarcasm as affirmation, Historia continued, “My name is Historia. Can I please speak to Samuel, your apprentice?”

The man-Levi, Historia presumed- turned around and yelled through the doorway behind him: “Samuel, through some miracle, someone wants to talk to you. Please exercise your lovely personality and tell her to fuck off.”

“Who in the-” Ymir (Historia refused to think of her as Samuel) walked through the doorway and stopped abruptly as her eyes met Historia’s. The recognition in her eyes was all Historia needed. With a squeal of happiness, she darted forward and hugged Ymir. 

Levi rolled his eyes: “Just go. Both of you. You’ll do whatever the hell you want anyways.”

Taking Historia’s hand, Ymir led the shorter girl through the back door and out into a small courtyard, where they could talk. 

“Ymir,” Historia whispered, “I was afraid you wouldn’t remember.”

“Why...because I’m a guy? or more accurately, because I’m dressed like a guy?”

Historia took a moment to process what had been said, and looked visibly relieved,   
“So you’re not actually…” Historia trailed off.

“Male? No. This is just the only way to get a decent job. Levi knows--that is the only reason I put up with the jerk.”

“But,” continued Ymir, her expression hard to read, “If I were a guy, would you still date me?”

“Umm…” Historia frantically tried to think of a way to evade the question. “I would still love you...but as for dating...I’m just really glad you are a girl.”

Ymir snorted. Wrapping her arm around the other girl’s waist, she said, “I would date you no matter what. Even as a guy, you would be too cute to resist.”

“I wasn’t just worried because you looked like a guy, Also, you ran into me on the street. I recognized your voice and remembered. But you didn’t look back. I thought maybe, that this time was different.”

Ymir looked horrified, “That person I swore at was you?”

Now Historia felt bad about telling her. She decided it was a good time for a change of subject.

“Oh shoot!” Historia groaned, “I totally forgot about my cousin Armin. He is probably looking for me.”

“Wait. Not the Armin.”

“Who’s the Armin?”

“You know, the Armin we met in the first life we met.”

When Ymir mentioned it, Historia could vaguely recall the lifetime of which she spoke. Armin. The name brought forward the fuzzy image of a blond boy with giant blue eyes. Like her cousin. It had been a sad life, Historia was certain, one of the very worst, and it had been a very very long time ago. 

“It could be,” Historia mused, “From what I recall, they look similar.” She felt like there was something she was missing-some other person from her past she was forgetting. Something so obvious it had practically slapped her in the face. Who was it that she had thought seemed familiar earlier? She had been too concerned about Ymir to give it much thought. Right. Levi. It had been Levi.  
From her memories of so long ago came a hazy fragment: he had been Corporal Levi then, hadn’t he?

Uncertainly, Historia asked, “Is your mentor Levi from that lifetime as well? I think I remember him.”

“I can’t quite remember. Do you think his personality was as awful then as it is now?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Well, run along then,” Ymir made a shooing motion, “Don’t keep Armin waiting. We can see each other tomorrow. Think you can come here?”

“Yes.” Historia paused, “There is only one problem.”

“What.”

Looking embarrassed, Historia admitted, “I can’t remember the way back to the store, or home for that matter.”

Feigning annoyance, Ymir rolled her eyes, and then planted a kiss on the other girl’s forehead: “Wow, its hard to imagine how you survived this long without me. Don’t worry, I’ll take you back.”

Almost too quietly for Ymir to hear, Historia whispered, “I nearly didn’t.”


	7. Small Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm...I didn't really edit this...so sorry for typos/grammatical wierdness

“Where have you been, Historia?” Armin said breathlessly. His gaze flicked from Historia to Ymir who was trying (and failing) to retreat unnoticed. 

“Just exploring!” was Historia’s hasty reply

“What are you doing with him?” Armin asked suspiciously

“You mean Samuel? He was just showing me around. Come on, let’s go home.”

Armin raised an eyebrow in disbelief as Historia brushed past him, so focused on changing topic that she went in the wrong direction

*****

They walked the short distance back to the house slowly; the distance seemed to be around a half kilometer of dirt road.

Armin suddenly broke the awkward silence, “What’s with you and Samuel? You just meet him randomly on the street and now you’re friends? And he really is a jerk, you know. Not to mention that you’re parents wouldn’t like it.”

“Its not like that. He’s really very nice. And why should it matter what my parents think?”

Armin looked unconvinced, and they once again lapsed into silence.

A young man was approaching, heading towards the village and leading a horse. Although grimy, and clearly not of the upper classes, his striking large green eyes were bright, and his face had a refined quality--almost one of nobility.

“Hi Eren!” Armin chirped. He blushed suddenly at the way his voice had turned high-pitched. The other man laughed, but in a nice way. 

“Hey Armin,” the other man replied, “I’m just going to Levi’s. Penny kicked off her shoe again.” He gestured at the horse.

“Oh...er...great! I mean...that’s too bad. Umm…do you want to like do something afterwards?...Oh... this is Historia by the way. She’s my cousin.”

“Nice to meet you, Historia. I would love to Armin, but I’ve got stuff to do. Apparently I’ve been slacking off on cleaning the stables again.” Eren groaned, “Maybe next time.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I just miss spending time with you.”

“I miss it too. Lets do something soon. You can come too Historia. Anyways, I’ve got to go now. See you guys.” 

And with that, Eren continued down the road, while Armin stopped for a while, watching his receding figure. Historia stood with him. Through their interaction, she had come to one indisputable conclusion; she was not the only one with something to hide. The queues were subtle, barely shifted from affection for a friend, but they were definitely there. In brightness of his eyes, and the way he concealed his disappointment. In the way his face lit up and the way his eyes followed the other man.

“I’m not sure either of our parents would approve of that either. Don’t worry though--I think its cute.”

Armin blushed, and then smiled slightly in appreciation, but his face then turned more serious, “It would never work though. He doesn’t like me like that.” 

“You told him?” Historia was surprised. Usually Armin would not take that much initiative.

“No...but I know.” Well then, apparently he hadn’t.

“How can you know until you try?”

“I just…” Armin seemed reluctant to answer, but he continued, “He has a boyfriend.” He sounded more bitter than Historia had expected, and she felt bad for him. Trying to imagine how she would feel if Ymir was dating someone else made a knot form in her stomach.

“And...I just don’t get what he sees in him.” Now that Armin had started, he had to continue--this was the first time he had talked about his feelings to another person, and once he began, it all poured out. “He has a nasty temperament; he swears at everyone; he never visits Eren here, and he is not even that good-looking! Well maybe a little bit...but...but he’s practically a midget!”

“Wait--is Eren dating Levi?” Historia asked in disbelief. It did seem to be a sort of unlikely match, although, thinking back on her brief encounter with Levi, she could imagine that he had some sort of latent charm. (He would have to, to date Eren, who was honestly very attractive, eve by her standards, and she didn’t even like guys.)

“You met him?”

"Yes, but I'm sure that he is nicer than he seemed at first! But don't worry. He'll come around eventually."

By then they had reached the house and because of some semblance of common sense, they both decided to continue the conversion later.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot finally begins. Yey!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don’t think Jean looks like a horse. I know you won’t believe me, but really, I just couldn't help myself.

The church was very quiet, and Historia could hear the echo of her footsteps as she walked between the pews. No one was there, not even the preacher, not even the old lady who seemed to be there every day. That was strange. She neared the door at the end of the aisle, and her heart began pounding. 

Why? She couldn’t remember why. But she had to find it. 

What was it? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she would recognize it when she found it.

How had she gotten here? She couldn’t remember. All she knew was that she desperately, desperately needed to find something, because Ymir was in danger, and that was the only thing that Historia could not stand.

She quickened her pace.

The door seemed to rise up before her, and she grasped the old, iron handle, and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. Starting to panic, Historia turned it again, and shoved against the door with all her weight, and felt it shift slightly. She shoved it again, and it cracked open, and she felt a moment of triumph, but the room behind the door was too bright, and now the world was spinning around her…

***

Historia’s eyes snapped open, and she tried to calm her heavy breathing and her pounding heart. Thinking back, it did not really seem so frightening. Nothing had happened really, nothing to be afraid of. And it was just a dream. Just a dream. Ymir was here, here and very much safe and alive.

With the other girl’s face floating in throughout her half-awake consciousness, Historia drifted back to sleep.

***

“Hey Historia!” Armin called, as she descended the majestic old house’s spiralled stairwell, “Eren and I are going riding today. Do you and Samuel want to come too?”

“Sure!” she said, “But do you really want us tagging along?”

“Of course,” replied Armin with an only slightly saddened smile, “Eren invited you, and suggested that Samuel come along too when he heard about the two of you.” 

Historia blushed slightly, and faked a cough as the head housekeeper entered and eyed them both suspiciously, obviously aware that they had been talking about some sort of secret. Armin became suddenly very interested in an old china teapot. Historia suddenly realized that a strand of hair had escaped her braid.

“Fine, I’m leaving,” said the old woman with fake annoyance. “You can continue talking about whatever you didn’t want me to hear about.”

***

The first hitch appeared when Armin went to get Eren. And the horses. Neither of which were at the stables where they were supposed to be. Well Shallot, Armin’s horse was, and she greeted him by taking a large mouthful of his hair. Historia laughed, and Armin pulled away, with most of his hair intact.

“Umm...not to state the obvious, but I thought that we had two other horses,” Historia posited.

“Yes,” Armin looked concerned, “Maybe one of them threw a shoe, and Eren rode the other to go get it replaced.”

“Well, I guess I could walk into town to invite Samuel, since we haven’t invited him yet.” The name seemed to fall strangely off of Historia’s tongue. She was not sure that she could ever get used to it. 

However, Historia’s suggestion was rendered unnecessary when two figures on horseback appeared. Eren slid off his horse smoothly and explained, “I was going into town anyways, so I figured that I may as well just bring Samuel back.”

“Thanks Eren, that’s great.” Historia’s response was excessively cheerful, an attempt to make up for Ymir’s lack of gratitude, “but how did you get time off, Samuel?”

Dryly, Ymir replied, “Levi seems so fond of his boyfriend that he would do anything short of dumping a pile of garbage in the middle of his house. I’ve never met such a dedicated clean freak.”

Eren blushed. Armin looked uncomfortable. Ymir smirked, and Historia changed the subject, “So where are we going?”

“I know a nice place in the forest. Its next to a stream and we can have lunch there. Speaking of which,” said Eren, “We have three horses. Since Armin and Historia are the smallest, they can ride toget-”

“No.” Ymir’s eyes had narrowed, and she looked practically menacing.

“Well, they are cous-”

“No.”

Eren looked from Ymir’s face to Historia’s, and it was decided.Ymir dismounted, and gave Historia a leg up onto Penny’s back, before hopping up behind her. She wrapped her strong arm around Historia’s waist, holding her just a little bit tighter than was needed.

Eren looked a little surprised, “So did you two really just meet each other a week ago? You seem so...friendly.”

Surprising herself, Historia replied, “We’ve actually known each other for a long time.”

Armin looked confused. Drat. Historia would have to think of some explanation for later. Encouraged forward by Ymir’s clucking, Penny the horse started forward at an easy jog. Shallot, with Armin on her back, kept next to them. Eren, the supposed horse trainer/ stable boy, was having a little more difficulty. When he urged his horse forward, it kicked out, wrinkling up its nose, and swinging its head bossily. Swearing, Eren gave it a kick, “Dammit Jean, why are you being like this?”

The horse finally gave in and settled into a steady trot. However, as Eren relaxed, it bucked suddenly. With a few more expletives, Eren pulled it in a tight circle, finally bringing it under control so he could catch up with his friends.

Ymir scoffed, “I think the horse nearly won.”

Historia laughed softly as well, thinking of another Jean, from long ago, whose face had only been slightly less horsey...


	9. Resolutions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry...this took an unforgivably large amount of time for me to update and resolve it, and it is so short, but I just couldn't think of what to do with it, so yeah.... :D

They were by the riverbank--they had been coming here a lot recently. Sometimes with Armin and sometimes alone. They were alone now, and Historia savoured the feeling of Ymir’s fingers working the way through her hair, and the way Ymir’s chest rose and fell with each breath. She was so beautiful, so alive.

But they were both mortal, and this life would end too--soon, far sooner than either of them could bear. It was stupid, because here she was with the one she loved, and all she wanted to do was cry at the injustice of it all--that this moment couldn’t last forever.

“What is it?” Ymir asked--she could always tell when something was wrong, but then again, Historia was an open book.

“I don’t-I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want this life to end. It is almost more cruel than not being reborn--watching each other die, over and over.”

She sniffed,

“And I’ve been dreaming, that I’m running somewhere, and I’m afraid and….and I want us to live, and it’s just not fair.”

The last part came out as a whine, not what Historia intended, but right now she didn’t care.

Ymir was silent for a moment, pondering, and then her reply was harsher than Historia had expected: “No one knows the future. You don’t, and I certainly don’t either. We can’t control it, other than by making our own choices. So why are you worrying about it? Don’t waste the time we have on this. I love you, and we are together now. Isn’t that enough?”

Historia didn’t respond, but she leaned her head back, resting against Ymir. The other girl was right, she knew. Because even if she had to undergo another century of pain before she had another moment like this, it would be worth it. Because this was beautiful. And it was enough. It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that was not the direction I intended to go with this, but in the end, I could not really think of an acceptable resolution, except maybe acceptance, so I am really sorry about that.


End file.
